THE MOST EPIC FANFICTION E'ER
by Paige Pandemonium
Summary: This is the most epic/retarded fanfiction ever written and I'd be doing the world a disservice if I didn't provide them with the fictional antics of the Smiths, MCR & Dr Who. COMBINED.
1. Chapter 1

"I hate you."

Gerard looked glumly upon the floor at the coffee pot that was smashed to bits at his feet. Frank looked on sheepishly, knowing that this was one of the worst things he could have done to his coffee-addict best friend first-thing in the morning. "I'm sorry... it really wasn't my fault; Mikey left the toaster on, and I smelled burning coming from the kitchen... I ran in here to check on it... you don't really hate me, do you?" explained Frank, worriedly. Gerard sighed. "No, I don't hate you, I guess, but I'm pretty damn pissed off," he said, his usual light-hearted and friendly demeanor gone with his most precious appliance. "Hey did I leave the toaster on la- HOLY SHIT, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COFFEE POT?!" Mikey exclaimed as he walked into the kitchen. "I knocked it over making sure _you_ didn't burn down the house," explained Frank for the second time, to the second incredulous Way brother.

Both Mikey and Gerard stared at the floor with the depressed gaze of a child whose favorite teddy bear had just been ripped to shreds by a vicious rottweiler. "That's it," Gerard stated suddenly, "you're buying a new coffee pot, Frank." Frank was miffed. "I don't know the first thing about coffee; I'm going to buy the cheapest one I can find and I'm going to bring it back and you're going to yell at me because it will be the wrong one." "Yeah, you're right," Gerard agreed, "I'll come with you. We're looking for a Mr. Coffee."


	2. Chapter 2

Meanwhile, across a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff, in London cerca 1982, two young men known to most as Johnny Marr and Morrissey strolled casually through a petting zoo. "I just don't understand why they call it 'polish,'" said a distressed Morrissey. "It doesn't 'polish.' 'Polish' would suggest that it just makes one's nails shiny. It seems more like paint. And moreover, you don't _polish_ nails, you _paint _them. I just can't understand why it's not called nail _paint_..." Johnny picked up a quarter and used it to get a handful of al paca food from the dispenser. "I dunno why it's called nail polish either, Steven," he agreed, using the first name that Morrissey had been trying to drop, "but why again are we in a petting zoo?"

Completely without warning, a peacock darted out from behind a bush. "That's what we're here for, Johnny!" shouted da Moz. "We're going to harvest the feathers from this peacock to make a blouse that I'm going to only half wear at our next concert!"

"A blouse?" asked Johnny. "Yes, a blouse." replied Morrissey.

They dove after the peacock, which in turn reared its head and began to attack. Johnny, who had the bird in a headlock, let go, and the peacock ran off into the urban jungle of London town.

Before the curators of the petting zoo knew what happened, they booked it off the premises. Though they thought they were safe, the proper authorities were hot on their trail - the dreaded and legendary petting zoo security guards, who could sniff out a litterer or a llama-feeder from miles away. Johnny and Morrissey had never faced anything so perilous before. Luckily, Moz spotted an extremely conveniently placed, blue police phone box on the street they were panicking on in London.

LOLZ


	3. Chapter 3

"That chase was horrible. I scuffed my loafers!" Moz lamented.

"What the hell is that?" asked Johnny, inquiring as to why there was a random old phone box in the middle of the street.

"I dunno," replied Morrissey hurriedly, "just get in it!"

"I swear to God if I get Tetanus..." complained Johnny, quickly stepping over the threshold of the rusty old phone box. "Holy Lord," he said, "It's bigger on the inside!"

This astute observation was, indeed, true. Morrissey and Johnny had stepped into what looked like a large, round, futuristic room with walls reminiscent of an insane asylum's padded walls, minus the squish factor. Strange, branch-like projections stretched from ceiling to floor, and in the center there was a tubular console that emanated an odd blue light. Without warning, the box jerked violently, like it was being wrenched into the sky. Johnny fell over. A bit of rustling was followed by a resounding _thump _and a hushed "Bloody Hell...," which was, in turn, followed by a man in a brown suit popping up behind what seemed to be the phone box's center console.

"No, really?" he said to them, "I never would have guessed. It's almost as outlandish as this new tea thing. Because that's **definitely** a crock of shit."

Johnny proceeded to look thoroughly confused and alarmed at the man's sudden appearance. Moz then stuttered out, "What are you talking about? Who are you? And I don't appreciate your sarcasm!"

"Alright," said the man in the brown suit, "I'm the Doctor. This is the TARDIS: Time and Relative Dimension in Space. You've caught me at a rather bad time, I'm about to make a fairly long trip to America in 2008. You're welcome to come along for the ride, I guess. Although I suppose you haven't got much of a choice."

"The Doctor? Doctor who?" asked Johnny, in the form of a shameless reference to the identically named television show.

"Oh come on, you're British! You should know this one," complained the Doctor, "that show's been on since 1960-something! You should at least know what the TARDIS is."

"TARDIS? Sounds like a support group for retards to me..." said Moz, somewhat to himself.


End file.
